The Legacy of Paneau: Fortuity
by Sile Crowley
Summary: <html><head></head>Prequel to LOP: Legacy's End. Horatio Sheridan's chance encounter with a stranger gives him the opportunity to clear his conscience, or so he thinks. Occurs 15 APC.</html>
1. Chapter 1

A cold, harsh wind howled through the streets of Coronet City, sending a violent chill up the spines of any unlucky souls who had no respite from its path. Snow hadn't yet begun to fall, but the seasoned locals all knew it was coming and had already rerouted their business to the underground tunnels. Offworlders, though, were far less prepared, relegated to traversing the Blue Sector's alleys in the open, frigid air. It wasn't ideal, but Horatio Sheridan had endured far worse, on either extreme, in the past. Where others with weaker wills would have given up their missions for a planet with more favorable conditions, Horatio actually preferred such a setting.

His years-old chest wound, however, did not.

As much as he tried to suppress it, a wet, rugged cough choked him as his lungs contracted to protect themselves from the cold. The entire left side of his chest ached under an unsightly scar just below his collarbone, an ever present reminder of the lowest point in his life that had very nearly gotten him killed. A jagged, broken piece of transparisteel had been thrust into him as punishment for starting a fight he had no chance of winning, and he had expected, perhaps even wished, for it to have claimed him at the time. Out of nowhere, though, one woman had bargained his assailants for his life, and she rescued him and nursed him back to health just so she could request a favor of him in return...

That favor was the only reason he had ventured back into Core Space, making his way through busy metropolises that he otherwise would have avoided at all costs. His usual routine of keeping to the Outer Rim and beyond was preventing him from following a lead, and a hunch, that the solution to his dilemma would be somewhere well populated. There was no way he'd go back to Paneau again, not even if his life depended on it, and Coruscant was full of hunters and mercenaries like him that would kill each other to collect the likely rather large bounty on his head. But somewhere in between on the spectrum, Corellia was both respectable enough to have what he was looking for, while at the same time crooked enough for him to blend in so long as he kept to the shadows.

Hiding in plain sight allowed him to eavesdrop on nearby conversations when others around him let their guard down. He picked up on keywords here and there as spacers and smugglers and all manner of lowlifes casually passed him by on the street, mostly unaware that a stranger was acutely listening in. Ironically, it was his keen ear that had landed him in that cantina brawl so many years ago, following two brutes inside and confronting them for ill words said against his late sister. Over time, the emotional pain of that night had slowly faded, replaced by the sincerely caring brown eyes that had hovered over him and begged him to breathe as he lay bleeding, dying on the floor of her ship's cargo hold...

Shaking the image of her lovely, pleasant face from his head, he glanced around himself, surprised to discover just how much of his surroundings had changed as he had briefly drifted away in his memories. None of the other offworlders nearby were the same ones he had seen just minutes earlier, putting him on edge. He'd been standing in place for far too long already, and his instinct to escape was suddenly impossible to ignore; it was long past time to move on. He hunched his shoulders to tug his heavy jacket tautly over his neck, giving the dark Corellian street another quick once-over before finding refuge in a cantina just down the block.

Out of habit, he made his way slowly around the cantina's main island, familiarizing himself with the number of people inside, with the interior layout, and most importantly, with any of the exits he may soon require use of. Though he hadn't yet run into any trouble in the recent past, he kept up a constant vigil and never took any sense of safety or comfort for granted. His former employers, many of whom he'd double crossed, had likely sent their agents anywhere and everywhere on his trail. It was what he would've done had he been in their shoes, striking when his target had become complacent and lax. Living with your eyes constantly locked over your shoulder was exhausting, mentally and physically, but it had kept him alive this long. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him, though, and fairly certain he hadn't been followed inside, he sat at the main bar with a direct line of sight to the front entry. A reflective bottle of some cheap green ale on the rack over his head gave him a perfect glimpse of the rest of the cantina behind him, allowing him to easily keep tabs on movement in any direction. For a few minutes, at least, he could enjoy a quiet drink undisturbed.

"What'll it be, buddy?"

Thought a bit off-put by the Rodian bartender's noticeable volume, Horatio withheld a flippant response to avoid attracting further attention. "Spiced ale, whatever local you've got."

The Rodian nodded and tossed the drink together quickly, seemingly capable of doing so with his large, round eyes closed. Though Horatio was familiar with a number of Rodians, he had no idea how to gauge their ages without prompting them for clues. How knowledgeable was this Corellian bartender about his homeworld? Would he be able to give Horatio the answers he sought?

"You seem to know your way around," the Rodian observed casually, thankfully adopting a softer tone. "Been here before?"

Lightly sipping his drink as he hunched over the bar, Horatio shrugged. "Can't help it when my luck runs out."

"And you end up here?" he laughed. "There are a lot worse places to be, pal."

"I'm not so sure about that," Horatio grumbled darkly, glancing briefly at two men who had just walked in. They wore nothing that identified them, but he had recognized them anyway. "You make it a habit of inviting CorSec agents into your cantina?"

The Rodian stood speechless a moment before he took a careful glance behind him, spotting the two who had caught Horatio's attention. If Rodians had eyebrows, he was sure the bartender's would be solidly knit together in alarmed confusion.

"I don't... I mean, those aren't... They're not _CorSec_."

"They're undercover, and they're good, but I can spot them a kilometer away. It's hard to completely alter the way you walk, even if you're consciously trying to. There are still going to be a few steps that give you away." Stealing another glance over his cup at the two as they moved further into the room, Horatio sighed. "What are they sniffing around here for?"

Nervous, the bartender slid a damp rag across the bar just in front of Horatio's elbows, an excuse to stay close enough to continue a quieter conversation. "I've heard they're looking for someone, an offworlder with a list of crimes as long as a Star Destroyer, someone who hasn't been here for very long. If...if you need," he added cautiously, obviously appreciative of Horatio identifying the agents for him, "...there's a tunnel just below this counter. Leads outside the city."

Uninterested in allowing trouble to find him though he wasn't sure why CorSec would want him anyway, Horatio was about to accept the offer when he spotted a woman entering the cantina who immediately piqued his curiosity. Her appearance was striking and remarkably unique, with slender, pointed ears, blue-tipped brown hair, and blue markings above and below her eyes, but her beauty was not his primary interest. She stood out to him, not because of her looks, but because of something indescribable, something he felt more strongly than a hunch. He watched carefully as she approached and spoke with the CorSec agents, and the way she carried herself, the way she moved with such grace and strength at the same time...he couldn't be imagining it. She wasn't dressed in any identifying uniform that he could see, either, but he knew exactly what she was.

And she could solve his longstanding problem that had brought him to the Core in the first place.

Inspired, he regained the bartender's attention, keeping a careful watch on her from across the room. "Who is _that_?"

The Rodian took a furtive glance before returning to him with a fresh drink and a shrug. "No one knows. She's been in and out of here a few times this week, taking on a few local jobs, but it's all been legitimate work as far as I could tell." Casting a skeptical gaze toward her and the CorSec agents still conversing with her, he huffed lightly. "She better not be ratting out any of my regulars."

Horatio paid the bartender little mind as the Rodian turned away muttering, instead remaining focused on the woman without appearing to stare. She perplexed him. Why would she be hiding who she was on a Core world like Corellia? Was she doing undercover work herself?

As quickly as she had appeared in the cantina, though, she was gone, leaving Horatio to debate whether he should follow after her. It was the perfect opportunity he needed to clear his conscience, so he couldn't afford to let her slip away, but it was extremely risky going in blind if she was what he thought. He'd had enough experience dealing with powerful, potentially volatile people in the past...

Afraid of wasting more time and losing her trail, he made his decision and tossed a few credits on the bar, downing the last swig of his drink as he nonchalantly made his way toward the front. Again he kept a roving eye on the other patrons as he passed them, especially on the CorSec agents in the corner, but still no one stirred from their own business. Either he looked the part of a local Corellian and commanded mutual respect, or his expression and demeanor kept others at a healthy distance. It didn't matter much to him, whichever allowed him to proceed without interference.

Returning to the night's biting cold outside was more of a shock than he anticipated, but he somehow managed to control his cough he could feel returning, concentrating on steady, careful breathing. His jacket insulated him a few moments more, and its dark color helped him use the shadows in the alley to his advantage as he spotted the woman up ahead. She hadn't gotten far, just a few blocks down the street, and she was still alone. Though he fought a nagging alarm in the back of his mind, the same feeling he got when he knew he was about to cross his former partner, he pressed on and followed her a dozen lengths back, keeping to the periphery as much as possible. When she turned down an even darker alley, he quickly closed the distance and took in a slow breath, steeling his nerves as he prepared himself for the encounter he knew wouldn't be easy...

Though his muscles were tensed and ready to react as he stepped around the corner, the deep darkness he met prevented him from perceiving any movement in front of him before it was far too late. He had no time to react as he felt a firm hand grip him by the collar and throw him hard against the wall as the flared muzzle of a blaster pistol was pressed up under his jaw, aimed squarely at the top of his spinal cord through his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

Her intense, ice blue eyes were narrowed in a darkly challenging gaze, daring him to move the slightest bit. Horatio hardly breathed as he stood motionless and entirely at her mercy, a position he was completely unused to being on the receiving end of. Her swift, fluid movement mere seconds ago had just confirmed his suspicions, but...she was only threatening him with a simple blaster?

"You should know better than to sneak up on a stranger around here, _mercenary_," she warned with a scathing bite, her voice every bit as hard and tenacious as he had expected. His cocky response, though, had already left his lips before he could restrain himself.

"If I were sneaking up on you, you wouldn't know."

He paid for his typical caustic wit with the blaster muzzle being pressed even harder into his throat, making it that much more difficult to swallow or even breathe. He regretted it instantly, afraid he'd already damaged his chances at earning her assistance, but he had to try. His conscience wouldn't let him rest until he did. "...I need to talk to you."

Predictably, her eyes narrowed even more. "I don't know you."

He shook his head the slightest bit. "And I don't know you, either. But I do know what you _are_."

A brief flash of fear lit up her eyes even more brilliantly in the darkness of the alley, but the rest of her expression remained stubbornly unchanged. Did she not believe him? How could he convince her without potentially exposing her secret she obviously wanted contained? "Look...I'm unarmed," he pleaded carefully. "Search me if you want to. I just need to talk."

Though she hesitated a long moment, studying him intently in complete silence, she finally released her grip on his jacket and slowly stepped back from him, keeping her blaster leveled at his chest. Except for her eyes which almost seemed to glow, she completely disappeared within the shadows when she remained still, leaving him on edge as he awaited her response. Her attitude and even her reactions were so familiar, distinctly reminding him of his former partner he hadn't seen in years. She wouldn't have given him the time of day had he approached her directly instead; no, he convinced himself, a neutral third party was the only way this would work.

The woman's eyes cast aside briefly as she seemed to consider something wordlessly, but she returned to him a few seconds later, nodding her head to her left to indicate her command. "Down the alley."

With little choice but to follow her order, Horatio slowly turned and began walking blindly through the dark, his fingers lightly brushing the building beside him to maintain his orientation as he moved. He could only see a small light up ahead, possibly a street lamp at the alley's end; was that their destination?

"This door on your right," she called up from behind him, halting him. "Open it."

He had to run his hand up and around the door frame dumbly to find its control panel, and as the door slid open, it flooded the alley with a bright light that momentarily stunned him. He closed his eyes and brought a hand up to shield them even more, but the woman gave him little time to recover.

"Inside."

Far more wary than before, he hesitated. "...I told you, I'm unarmed."

But she insisted again with force. "_Inside_."

Though he took in a reluctant, slow breath, he failed to stifle another wet, choking cough as his old wound fiercely protested the cold air. It made his decision to step inside that much easier, figuring he would rather handle whatever she had planned for him than take on unwanted attention from the drifters in the surrounding streets, so long as his coughing fit resolved.

The room he walked into was only minimally furnished, with just a small bench and a spattering of random cargo crates around the floor. It looked more like a storage room than anything; he couldn't see anything personal or identifying within it. Despite his rising anxiety and fear of becoming trapped, he slowly turned to face the woman as she moved inside behind him. Her eyes never left his, indicating to him that she was already well familiar with the room, and it left him at a distinct disadvantage. She was studying him with a curious expression, one that was markedly less hostile than it had been just minutes ago. As the door closed behind her, she even lowered and holstered her blaster, relaxing her body language the slightest bit. So she was keeping up appearances out in the public eye, but she trusted him enough, a complete stranger to her mere minutes ago, to let her guard down when they were alone?

"So, just what is it, exactly, that you think I am?"

Ever her tone was softer, devoid of any aggressiveness or defensiveness he was prepared to hear. She was genuinely interested in his response, but he still remained wary; he hadn't yet completely caught his breath from coughing earlier, and he wasn't entirely ruling out a violent reaction from her despite her calm appearance.

"...you're a Jedi."

He expected...anger for being identified, or maybe even shock that a total stranger had figured her out in the middle of a busy cantina, but...she stood perfectly motionless, hardly even seeming to breathe. She concentrated on him so intently, her eyes taking in his features one by one as though determined to bring _something_ to recall.

"Have we met before?"

Horatio couldn't be completely sure, having blocked out a good portion of his younger days from his memory, but he was mostly certain he wouldn't have forgotten such a unique face like hers. "No, we haven't. But I'm right, aren't I? You _are_ a Jedi."

Again she ignored his response, electing to remain silent which, to him, was an answer in itself. She cast her gaze elsewhere, anywhere he wasn't, as though he had brought up a painful subject she was loathe to discuss. He hadn't intended to offend her, but it didn't seem to have upset her enough to force her to leave. Would he inflict further pain by continuing with his request, or should he just leave and search for someone else to assist him?

"Look," he continued hesitantly, "I need your help getting a message to another Jedi...only she can't know that it came from me."

The change in the woman's demeanor was instantaneous. His addendum had put her on the defensive as she suddenly looked at him with distrust, and it forced him to explain himself when he wanted to do anything else but. He released a lengthy breath, struggling to come up with the proper words to best describe his past without alarming her further.

"It was a long, long time ago... I had a partner for many years in a criminal group we belonged to. She was a powerful, skilled Dark Jedi, and we had a professional working relationship, but..."

She had already seen through him. "You still have feelings for her."

Such a direct, blunt statement didn't exactly convey what all he felt for her, but he couldn't correct her, either, without lying. He avoided answering just as she had, continuing on without dwelling on his complicated emotions. "On the first mission she took without me, she ended up defecting. She turned her life around, became a Jedi, got married and had a daughter. I thought for sure that our paths would never cross again...but they did."

His voice weakened with remorse, looking to the floor. "She spared my life when she didn't have to, when she _shouldn't_ have, not after what I'd done. Maybe it was...pity, or maybe it was just habit after all we'd been through together as partners, but she could've left me to my fate a handful of times, and she didn't. Now her daughter's in trouble, and I have information she needs to know."

Meeting the woman's gaze again, he watched her warily as she crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her brows. She studied him silently in turn, briefly appearing unsure if she were going to accept his request. He waited with bated breath, preparing himself to plead further, until she finally spoke.

"Your partner... What was her name?"

He swallowed out of reflex, preventing him from saying the name he'd originally known her by and still said to her face. "Mand Natiyr."

The woman's eyes softened noticeably. "I knew a Natiyr at the Academy... He was an excellent Healer. I never trained him myself, but the other instructors spoke so highly of him."

Horatio nodded weakly. "Her husband."

Again she held a shrewd, discerning gaze on him for a long, tense moment, drawing the silence taut and frail. It only took one word for her to deny and reject his plea, but she seemed to be...probing, listening for anything else his mind might tell her without a prompt. Was she even getting to the core of him, reading his heart as he'd never allowed Mand or anyone else to do? All his years of being so guarded and alone, completely unattached to anyone, and agreeing to a favor asked of him had made him the most vulnerable he'd ever been. Deilia could have left him in that cantina to die from his chest wound, but instead, he'd accepted her request to help Cordira, Mand's daughter, in return for the lifesaving surgery Deilia had performed. This mysterious woman, and her willingness to trust him, was all that stood between him fulfilling that promise or failing to do so, requiring another plan entirely.

With a light breath, the Jedi slowly nodded and released her crossed arms, her ice blue eyes suddenly warm. "What's the message you want me to get to her?"

A rush of relief left him as he exhaled, unaware he'd been holding his breath for so long. "The organization responsible for her daughter Cordira's creation, the scientists that the Tarthos, Nerezzas, and Darkmyres employed, they've started their experiments again. There are labs popping up on the edges of Wild Space, but there's one closer to the Core that has been tasked with finding their original test subjects... Cordira was the only success they had. The Natiyrs need to know that she's in danger. They either need to hide their daughter, or find and take down all the labs."

Another lengthy silence followed his message as she absorbed and processed it all, but a calculating expression also returned to her face. "So Mand won't believe this if I tell her you were the one who came to the Jedi with this information?"

He clenched his jaw. "She'd want to know what I was getting out of it. If I was getting paid to send her and her family into a trap."

"What _are_ you getting out of this?"

Though he had taken in a quick breath to respond, another coughing fit stifled his rising anger, choking him far worse than the previous ones had. He struggled to draw in a full breath without an obstructive cough, making his head pound with each gasp. He suffered for several agonizing moments before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and within seconds, he felt the familiar influence of the healing Force on his wound. The look in the woman's eyes was one of cautious compassion, but as he felt his breath returning to him, he nodded his thanks, his desperate gasping subsiding. She stepped back from him as he recovered, remaining silent but still expecting his answer. Although reluctant, he felt compelled to comply.

"I got this eight years ago," he began weakly as he tugged his shirt down to expose the scar on his chest. "My reward for sticking up for my sister who was already dead. The woman who saved my life..." he drifted briefly, seeing her beautiful face, her short black hair... "The only thing she asked of me in return was to help Cordira when she needed it. If you get this message to Mand, I'll have done my job."

Satisfied, she nodded with understanding, though her eyes dimmed the slightest bit. "I haven't been with the Order for a few years now...but I still have contacts. I promise you, I will get your message delivered to the Natiyrs."

He nodded gratefully, catching himself almost lowering into a bow. Wasn't that how respect was shown to a Jedi?

"What's your name?"

Surprised by the question, his reflex was self-preservation. "I could tell you any one of a hundred aliases."

For the first time since they'd met, she gave him a small, perceptive grin. "So could I."

He decided against it, though; he owed her at least one more truth for the mission he'd just set her on. "Horatio... Horatio Sheridan."

Her grin evolved into a wan smile, and she nodded. "Sakiko Ryuuzaki."

He nodded again, as well, but she turned to leave almost immediately, moving with such fluidity and grace that he had already forgotten the blaster that had been held to his throat just a short time ago.

"Stay out of the cold, Mr. Sheridan," she offered kindly as she opened the door and glanced back at him. "A bacta treatment or two should help clear up that cough. And a Jedi Healer would be more than willing to make that scar go away, as well, whenever you're ready." With a small, understanding smile, she silently disappeared into the frigid darkness of the alley and left him alone.


End file.
